


A Last Chance

by CrimzieLightwood



Category: The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24149710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimzieLightwood/pseuds/CrimzieLightwood
Summary: Alastair Carstairs is dedicated to becoming a better man. This means owning up to his actions in the past. He starts with the family that he hurt the most, the Lightwoods. But he leaves the family's home filled with a mixture of emotions, after the reactions he received from them.
Relationships: Alastair Carstairs & Thomas Lightwood, Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood, Sophie Collins/Gideon Lightwood
Comments: 12
Kudos: 99





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 1 of a story about Alastair Carstairs facing the Lightwoods, because before I can accept Thomastairs, I need Alastair to own up to his actions. Follow me on tumblr and instagram @crimziedrawings

Alastair stared up at the large oak doors that stood before him. He shook off his nerves and knocked gently before he could change his mind. As he waited for someone to answer the door, doubt flooded in and clouded his thoughts. He shouldn’t be here. Surely, it is too early to be intruding on this family, especially after the lost they suffered. _This was a mistake,_ he thought. But before he could turn and leave, again, the door opened in one swift movement.

A house maid stood at the door, her face flushed and hands slightly red. She must’ve been cleaning. Alastair felt somewhat rude, as if his being here was an inconvenience. Normally, he wouldn’t have felt this way, but every inch of him was screaming at him to leave, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when his own mind came up with this mild feeling of his untimeliness as an excuse to leave. But, about this particular matter, Alastair’s will was stronger than his mind.

“May I help you?” the maid asked.

Alastair’s tongue went slack as his mind refused to work. How was he going to do this? Address the entire family at once? One by one? Perhaps just the ones who need to hear what he has to say the most. Alastair stood up straighter, hoping to compose the look of a confident man. “My name is Alastair Carstairs. I am here to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood,”

“Of course, sir,” the maid replied. “They are in the library. Follow me, please.”

Alastair took his hat off as he stepped through the threshold. He followed the maid through the manor, all the while marveling at the interior. You would expect the Lightwoods to live a luxurious lifestyle, and while the manor was indeed grand and spacious, the decorations were unmatched to the deluxe style. It felt rather warm and inviting, adorned with homely touches. Alastair felt comfort at the ambience of the Lightwood’s home, but it quickly went away when they arrived at the library. There was no turning back now.

The maid turned to Alastair, holding out a hand to prevent him from entering the library. “Please wait here while I see if they are up for visitors. They are going through a difficult time right now,”

Alastair nodded, stepping back away from the door. He could just barely hear what was happening through the slight crack in the doorway.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood, I apologize for the intrusion,” came from the muffled voice of the maid. “A Mr. Alastair Carstairs is here to speak with you,”

A loud voice boomed, “What?”

The hair on the back of Alastair’s neck rose. He knew whose voice that was. Thomas Lightwood. Alastair wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do if Thomas prevented him from seeing his family. He had every right to do so, but the thought of that made Alastair numb with worry. He needs to do this. Not just for himself, but for this family. They deserve it.

“Alastair Carstairs?” came another male voice.

 _Gideon Lightwood_ , Alastair thought. Gideon Lightwood is Thomas’s father.

“He’s here to speak to us?” Alastair assumed this was Thomas’s mother, Sophie Lightwood.

“Don’t worry, mama,” Thomas said roughly. “I will take care of him,”

Alastair’s breath caught at the thought of Thomas confronting him.

“No need, dear,” Sophie said. Even through a tiny crack in the door, Alastair could hear her voice clearly, light yet firm. It was captivating, almost. “Let him in, please.”

“Mama-“

Alastair was prevented from hearing what Thomas had to say as the maid came back and announced to him that he was allowed in.

Alastair took a deep breath, in an attempt to calm down in order to think straight. He did not want to be spouting nonsense or accidently say something of offense. He knocked on the door lightly as he walked into the library, merely to alert them of his presence.

Gideon Lightwood sat at the desk that was placed under the large windows on the right wall. This was the only wall in the room that did not have a bookcase. He seemed to be reading his correspondence. His wife, Sophie, was sitting in the chair by the fireplace, with a pad of paper and some charcoal in hand. Alastair was surprised to see that she had an artistic interest. Shadowhunters rarely dallied with the arts, or any form of entertainment that would result of as a hobby. A lady, who Alastair assumed to be Thomas’s sister, Eugenia, was sitting in the Chesterfield sofa that faced away from the windows. As far as Alastair could see, she was embroidering flowers consisting of the most brilliant colors around the circumference of the tambour frame. And bracing his arms against the back of a chair, the one next to his mother, stood Thomas.


	2. Chapter 2

Alastair started to introduce himself, even though the maid had already done so, but was interrupted by Thomas.

“What are you doing here?” he seethed.

“Thomas!” Sophie gasped.

“It’s alright, Miss,” Alastair reassured her. “He has every right to be upset,”

Thomas let out sort of choked up laugh. “Upset?”

Before he could continue, Gideon spoke up. “I have to say, I am surprised to see you. I am even more so to see that you two are somewhat of acquaintances. Which makes all this hostility quite a curious thing, as I have not heard of Thomas being - upset, you say? - with anyone. Not even with the boys,”

“It’s nothing,” Thomas said to his father.

Alastair looked at Thomas closely. His hazel eyes were bright and his hair fell down over his forehead, suited for a time spent at home. His face was neutral, and one would almost think he was rather relaxed if it weren’t for his tense shoulders and the strain of his grip on the chair. His sleeves were pushed up and Alastair could see the faint black lines of his tattoo, along with runes. Thomas caught Alastair’s gaze and pulled his sleeves down.

“It is not nothing,” Alastair announced. “Thomas and I were indeed acquaintances as we went to the Academy together. My arrival in town only restored our… friendship, as it was comforting to see a familiar face. Recently though, we have grown apart, as a part of my past came to light.”

“What do you mean?” Eugenia asked, her focus now on Alastair instead of her embroidering.

“Is this some cruel joke? To come to my family and remind them of a time where these sayings put us through hell?” Thomas cut in.

“No, of course not,” Alastair spoke in a rush. “I am here to apologize,”

Thomas’s grip eased a bit, but the tension was still evident.

“Apologize? For what?” Sophie asked.

Alastair took another deep breath, bracing himself for the confession he was dreading to make. _So, this is how it’s going to be,_ Alastair thought. _I can do this. I will do this._

Alastair began, “My time spent at the Academy was not entirely pleasant, nor were my manners. You have raised a good man, Mr. and Mrs. Lightwood, as Thomas was only ever kind to me, even when I did not deserve it. His kindness did not falter when I arrived in town, and still I did not deserve it. You see, while I was at the Academy, I participated in the wrong sort of activities. I worshipped the wrong sort of people. I was only a kid, easily influential, and these people were my idols. What they did, I did. What they believed, I believed,” Alastair released a stuttering breath. “And what they said, I said. That includes rumors. Rumors that, I am ashamed to admit, involve your family.”

Alastair took his time observing each of the Lightwoods. They didn’t react. Rather, they bore a neutral face, except Sophie Lightwood, who merely lowered her gaze, as if she knew of what Alastair spoke. It caused him great shame remembering his words, all that he had said about Sophie Lightwood, about Thomas’s mother. Alastair directed his next words at her, speaking softly, “I mocked your previous status, and I maligned your upbringing, the fact that you were once a mundane. I blamed Thomas’s illness on it. I insinuated that you were-“ Alastair broke off, the surrealness of the situation hitting him with the force of tornado. He closed his eyes, taking a couple of seconds before opening them and continuing, “I insinuated that you were a whore.”

Gideon stood up at this, so fast that his chair knocked over. “That’s enough,” he cautioned. His face did not look neutral anymore. No, he looked furious. He had the right mind to be, hearing all these awful things about his wife, seeing that it was being said _to her_. But before he had the chance to give Alastair a piece of his mind, his wife’s soft voice broke in.

“Gideon, let him finish,”

Alastair stared at her in disbelief. Here he stood, speaking of such terrible insults in her presence, and yet this woman had the will to let him do so, to let him finish what he had to say. He couldn’t tell whether there was a motive behind this or if she was simply just a patient woman.

“Mama, you don’t need to hear this,” Thomas interjected. “It isn’t true.”

“I said let him finish,” Sophie ordered, her eyes slicing to Thomas before resting on Alastair. “Surely, there is more?”

Alastair was nearly speechless. “Yes…”

Sophie placed her art supplies on the coffee table in front of her. She sat back delicately and straightened, setting her chin higher. Even though Alastair was standing, he still had the feeling that this woman was looking down at him. “Then continue,”

“I spoke of your husband, as well,” Alastair coughed. He had started this confession by speaking to the whole family, but now he felt that he was only professing to Sophie, as if she had some power like the Mortal Sword, drawing his words out no matter how dreadful and brash they were. “I implied that he had an affair. W-with Charlotte Fairchild.”

At this, Gideon pushed off his desk, rattling the objects that rested on it.

“And I said that Matthew Fairchild was his bastard,” Fear pulsed through Alastair’s veins, yet he kept going. “I’ve said all these appalling things and spread them to others. It was not right, but at the time I did not know any better. It doesn’t excuse my behavior; I am not asking for your forgiveness. I am telling you this because I want you to know, I _need_ you to know, how sorry I am. Please know that I am trying to make amends and become a better man, to fix myself.”

The Lightwoods were quiet, each of them looking as if they were in thought. _Probably contemplating how to ruin me_ , Alastair thought. This silence was driving Alastair mad, but he said nothing. A few minutes went by before someone spoke up.

“Gideon, Thomas, Eugenia, please leave,” Sophie commanded. “I wish to speak to him alone."


	3. Chapter 3

Immediately, Thomas straightened. “Absolutely not,”

Sophie sighed with exasperation. “Thomas-”

“Do not listen to anything he says, mama. It isn’t true,”

“I know that, darling. Please, excuse us for just a few minutes,”

Alastair watched as Thomas looked to his father, his eyes begging for him to do _something._

He did that. He interrupted this family’s grieving, in their own home, and spat insults to their face. And now, the one he’s trying to redeem himself to, the one he cares about, is feeling useless, unable to prevent his mother from being left alone with Alastair.

“Sophie, my love-” Gideon began.

Sophie cut her husband off with a single glance. “I will not ask again.”

Gideon looked softly at his wife. The two of them seemed to be having a conversation that no one else understood. Eventually, he nodded and walked towards the library doors, pausing to ensure that Thomas and Eugenia were following. Eugenia stood silently, sparing one misty look towards her mother. Thomas shook his head and, reluctantly, left the library. The glare he gave Alastair held a promise that set his heart racing. Alastair watched the door close, wishing he could leave as well, fearing whatever came next.

“Please, sit,” Sophie said, gesturing to the seat next to her.

Alastair nodded, carefully sitting in the chair as not to seem disrespectful.

“You are dedicated, I see. I imagine it must’ve been very hard to come here, especially if my son knew of these sayings. He is very protective of his family, my Thomas. You said he was upset with you? If his actions today reflect any of his previous behavior towards you, I will talk to him. I cannot apologize on his behalf, however, as he is his own man and is fully capable of making his own decisions. Nevertheless, I can address him on how he treats others, even those who mistreat him. A mother’s job is never-ending,” Sophie finished with a sad look.

Alastair didn’t know what to say. Except, “I am sorry about Barbara,”

Sophie looked away, but Alastair saw the glossy eyes. She exhaled slowly, composing herself before turning back to Alastair. She gave him a slight nod and he knew that that was all she could muster. She did not want to grieve the loss of her daughter with a stranger.

“You know, my husband was very much like you when he was your age,”

This was shocking. Gideon Lightwood, the real side of Gideon Lightwood, was only ever kind and understanding. Alastair could not fathom Gideon as cruel as he is- _was_.

“His father was… a difficult man. A sick man,” she continued. “He was an elitist of a sort. Arrogant and proud. And he taught his sons to be the same way. I had never met Gideon in this stage when I was a servant at the Institute.” As she said this, she straightened her chin, almost daring Alastair to react in an ill manner. “But I had heard stories.”

Despite the serious atmosphere, she smiled. “Then he took his travel year to Spain,”

Thomas had went to Spain as well, Alastair realized with a pang.

“Spain had transformed him, had erased his father’s voice in his head, he told me. Though it did not make him a better man. He did that himself. He realized the ideas his father practiced were not right and he turned away from him. But he did not leave his family. He worked to save his siblings, in particular Gabriel who was gobbling up every word his father said, not bothering to think for himself. He never gave up. Not on his brother, not on himself…. not on me. You see the kind of man he is now?”

Alastair did not want to break her flow so he simply nodded. But it seemed she had a different idea.

“And what do you see?”

He thought about it, recalling all that he had observed about Gideon Lightwood. “He’s kind and patient and… honorable,” he finished, with a new respect for the man.

“But he was not always so. He learned. He grew. And before he became better, what had motivated him, was his pain. He did not like the man he was. He did not like the relationships he had with those around him. So, before there was a change, there was suffering,” Sophie’s head tilted as she looked at Alastair with a gentle look. “Are you suffering?”

Alastair was taken aback by the turn of conversation. She so easily changed the topic to Alastair, as if he were part of it all to begin with. He did not know how to answer. He didn’t have to answer, he realized. He didn’t owe this woman anything. But that mysterious ability of hers, working so much like the Mortal Sword, was drawing his words out before he even understood what he was saying. “Yes… I have been for a while, I suppose,” he said, looking down at his hands.

Alastair felt betrayed by his own self. He did not realize how much he was hurting; He did not even realize he was hurting at all.

“My dear, I am sorry,” Sophie said.

Alastair head shot up. “You? Sorry for what?”

Sophie was still looking at him with that soft look in her eyes. “For everything. I am sorry you followed the wrong people. I am sorry for whatever situation you were in that allowed a little boy to think and speak with such hatred. I am sorry that it was never dissolved, that you had no one to help you. I am sorry that you are lost and in pain,”

Alastair could feel the tears running down his face, but he did not care. He was absolutely disgusted with himself for ever believing such wrong accusations about this woman. He was immediately filled with rage as he remembered those that still whisper about her to this day. She did not deserve this. She was better than any of the pure-blooded Nephilim he had met, and Alastair would not be surprised if she were made by the angels themselves.

Sophie moved to sit on the coffee table so she was directly in front of Alastair. “You say you want to fix yourself? There is nothing to fix. We all have a past to be ashamed of,” Something dark flickered in her eyes, so quick that Alastair thought he imagined it. “But we wouldn’t be who we are today if the past did not happen. Hide the shame all you want, but don’t ignore it,”

Alastair nodded, the tears still streaming. Before, he would’ve hated the idea of being so vulnerable in her presence. Now, he felt it was only natural to do so.

Sophie reached out to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “I forgive you, Alastair Carstairs,”

Alastair had never felt so light.


End file.
